When I reach the privacy of my room I slump down on the bed and let the shock of the last few hours sink in. Being back in that playhouse felt like walking through a nightmare. Every little detail of that night came back to me magnified. The dizziness, the blood. It just won’t end, will it, I tell myself as I close my eyes and drift off to sleep. It will never end.

All is quiet now. Sonia has just put her head round the door to tell me that she is going home and that there’s some soup and bread in the kitchen if I feel hungry. I thanked her but the last thing I can face right now is food.

I feel very peculiar, as though I’m floating above myself. Perhaps it’s the shock of everything. I turn on my side and try to go back to sleep but as I close my eyes the doorbell rings.

I take my phone from the bedside table and look at the time. It’s 8.30 p.m. Who could be at the door at this hour? Maybe if I ignore them whoever it is will go away. But then it rings again and I hear a voice calling through the letter box.

‘Maggie. Are you in there? It’s Julia.’

Julia? I think to myself as I make my way down the corridor. What does she want?

I take a quick look in the living-room mirror as I pass. I look dreadful. It’s been days since I last washed my hair and my face is pale and blotchy. I run my fingers through my hair so I look a little more presentable then I take the chain off the door and open it.

‘Hi, Maggie,’ says Julia. ‘I just wanted to pop round and see how you were getting on with the new medication. May I come in?’

As always, she looks a vision of elegance. Today’s trouser suit is deep purple velvet with a pretty lilac lace camisole underneath.

‘Of course,’ I say. ‘Come through.’

‘Something smells nice,’ she says as she steps inside. ‘Have you been cooking?’

‘No, that was Sonia,’ I say as I lead her into the living room. ‘She’s been baking bread.’

‘Well, I hope you’ve been eating it,’ says Julia. ‘Good nutrition is vital when you’re healing, mentally as well as physically.’

‘I’ve been trying,’ I say. ‘Though I’ve never had much of an appetite.’

‘Listen, Maggie, I was hoping we could have a little chat,’ she says, her voice softening. ‘Would that be okay?’

‘A chat? What about?’

‘Don’t look so alarmed,’ she says, smiling. ‘Listen, why don’t you sit down and I’ll put the kettle on. What would you like?’

‘Er, I don’t mind really,’ I say. ‘There’s some camomile tea in the cupboard.’